


Anti The ∞ Holic - USUK

by parallelDiversity



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetaloid, M/M, MMD, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelDiversity/pseuds/parallelDiversity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An urge to write this after magical-eyebrow-powers showed me the link and the art.<br/>*tips hat*<br/>It's... as crazy as the song, hope you enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti The ∞ Holic - USUK

    A single sneering laugh crawled its way up Arthur's throat as he rose his head to the roof of the vaulted ceilings in the massive cathedral. The echoing sounds of his maddened laughter filled his body and shook the walls like a cry of fear. His laughter grew to a loud cackle as he threw his head back and felt his strings of sanity snap like spiderweb threads. Anyone that dared to peer into the long deserted dance hall and cathedral was either suicidal or was possessed by the darkest of curiosities, though, in his state, it was doubtful that Arthur could have done much harm.  
    Instead he devoted his flickering sense of time to dancing within the light of the clocks that spun around the fading floor. In his arms was a single skeleton clothed in a black dress, but perhaps he was seeing something a little different.  
    "Oh, time, darling," he half laughed, half sung. "Oh, frozen time, sweet like the thorned roses of your heart, darling. My dear, dear Lady Time," he whispered and spun the bones around and held them close as if they were an intimate lover. Perhaps in his eyes she gasped in excitment, eyes flickering with the curiosity of his seductive ways and masterings of the art of dance. However, to onlookers, it was a darkened skeleton under a once desired gown of black roses and crystal clear pearls.  
    The clocks beneath him and his Lady Time spun slower and slower to their dance pace. The light beneath the two--if one counts the remains as a being--seemed heavenly and almost romantic.  Though, again, bones.  
    Arthurs voice rose higher and higher still into the rafters of the ceilings as he dances, small orbs and wisps of light enveloping him and his... er... partner within its beauty. The way he swept the bones and their beings around was like the soft swelling of water from up under the undisturbed lake surface. He moved like an undetected current and danced with the pace of his own Time, creating a perpetual replay of beauty within the small space.  
    Looking down even the angels could see his broken heart had blackened his soul and driven him to the end. They would sigh and feel his pain, eyes tearing up in empathy. This man, this broken and secretly terrified man, was biting leather through his pain. Or... had he already forgotten what drove him over the deepest continental shelf of self preservation and sanity?  
  
    Blue lights, more or less popping sparks of function, flickered about Alfread's cerulean eyes as he slowly opened them in his chamber of lights and sounds. Electricity made the lights come on and turn off; people move and become inspired; creates force and power; but it seldom satisfied the ache in his heart.  
    His fingers flitted about the air, blue sparks trailing after his fingertips. His eyes, half-lidded, closed for a moment and opened shortly to see that nothing had changed. Technology and electricity was always changing, yet he, master of those elements and purpose, the formulas and the functions, was frozen in that blue-lit room. What's the point of standing still when the world around you moves so frantically? Is there a reason to be stuck this way without creation or fruition of your patience?  
    Alfred thought not.  
    Instead he sighed and rolled onto his side, eyes closed as he recalled the happy times when his dear guardian had reminded him that there were better days in everything. Though, these kinds words were before their love entangled like dying thorned rose vines.  
    The flashing images of a pair of peridot eyes bubbling over with tears and a collapsed pile of limbs that was Arthur filled the lenses of Alfred's closed eyes. He pressed his palm into his forehead and bit his lip. How he'd broken the man in just a few words that he honestly didn't mean. But... everything correctable, isn't it? Even just a little?  
   _Destiny_ ,  
    an almost inaudible whisper grazed Alfred's ear. He jolted upright, looking around in all directions. He only found himself still locked inside his solitude with the one word repeating itself over and over inside the caverns of his head.  
    "Everything can be rewritten... even just a little. Altered, adjusted, rewritten, corrected, formulated, created," Alfread sneered, his glasses flickering with a blue light that seemed to mimic the madness that Arthur had made no attempts to conceal.  
    Had their dying love killed both the birds with burdening stone of their past?  
    Surely not...  
    Right?  
  
    "Darling, Lady Time, we'll go places," the lights were rising the rafters now, their dance continuing just as he'd planned. His infinite loop of concentrated beauty, the dance of the dead and the revival of a fallen love. "We'll go to the places where we can keep him... locked up... hidden... forever preserved as my doll," Arthur whispered where the bones' ear might have been. "I will have him back as my own."  
  
    "Rewrite," Alfread spoke aloud, the panel of light and glass showing two pages. The current time stream and the past. "Reveal ID 26UK," he commanded the supercomputer, the real-time video revealing Arthur dancing into his dark magic spellwork. "You monster, I'll decide your fate, Destiny or no Destiny."  
  
    "You don't think their isolation was a little biased?" Fracis slammed his hand onto the meeting table in the long lecture hall. His forehead was drenched in sweat from the fear of what would become of the black magic and electrical powers of the feuding two. "Have you no consideration of your own?!"  
    "Consideration was to divide them before something of a more catastrophic scale took place, Francis," Yao Wang rose his eyes, petting his pet panda across his lap with implications beneath.  
    "But they aren't idiots. Well, I mean, sure, Alfred may be, but..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "This is going to end in hell, mark my words," Francis swore as he swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
    Ivan, lavender eyes sharper than the shards of ice melting from his coat, peered across the table to Yao. His lips were pursed, though hidden behind the convenient veil of the scarf, hiding his harsh words he'd wished to speak. But Yao sensed his words.  
    "Even if it is the demise that brings them... it will be on our own gains, don't you think?"  
    Ivan simply snickered and nodded, "Demise or not demise, a gain is the one true outcome."  
  
    The blackness of the church was fading away into the golden glow of the magic as he spoke loftly to the doll... er... bones. Lady Time, referred to affectionately by Sir Kirkland himself. "Not even the gods of time can escape this downfall, Lady Time," he spoke her name softly as they danced in the stunningly bright array of lights. "And so shall he arrive," the sharp eyes shot across the brilliantly lit hall to the door that was crumbling under the weight of Truth.  
  
    "That fool cannot seriously think that there's such a magic for the science of eternity, does he?" Alfred snickered as the hexagonal light board above his cast a single shadow beneath him, isolating his madness. "There's no such code for everlasting beauty," another laughter that became a low cackle.  
    His fingertips raced across a keyboard, more than a hundred windows of code and scientific formulations flickering through the screen. Some of them were beginning to flicker under the constant RAM downloading speed and processor compulsion of the user. Alfred's own existence was being built with the machine with his confusion.  
    "There's no such magic for this lie, Arthur," he hissed, blue screens popping and cracking before his eyes. But at what cost was all his strife. "I will end thsi lie."  
      
    Soon, for both of the starcrossed madmen, the worlds beneath their feet began to ripple like the surface of a black and anti-matter created lake. Alfred stood up and over threw his desk, rage fuming then in form of confusion. What was he even trying to prove? To who was he proving it to? And at what cost was all of this? Was there even a gain?  
    Alfred felt a sudden flood of mixed emotions meet in his hand as he clenched it tightly and broke the surface of the main frame behind him. Sparks flew like a fireworks show and a trickle of blood ran down his sleeved arm like a ribbon.  
    At what cost will I succeed?  
  
    Arthur carressed Lady Time within his arms and crusher her bones and her beauty into a pure ball of light that glowed just as brilliantly as the ballroom of clock faces and sparkling black magic. "Now revive this irrationality that was once Fate," Arthur commanded, his own reality falling into a watery state as he pressed the orb of beauty and purity into the floor below him. Soon the entire room twisted from its romantic golden glow to a convicting silver, the walls blackening and the windows flooding with that patronizing glare. "I'll show you just how true your lies can be," Arthur snickered which grew into a roaring cackle as he felt his Fate line cross Alfred's. "Soon now, is it?"  
  
    Alfred felt the pain throb up his wrist as he huffed out his rage. Though, the pain wasn't earthly. In fact, the pain was not of his injuries but of a unique sort of energy that had once swelled within the mainframe. It had attached to Alfred's arm from impact and was rooting itself within his body. He could only stare, cerulean eyes dizzy with the bright blues and whites that spun from the powerful white fire wrapping his right hand. "W-what...?"  
    He traced his palm lightly and gasped when he found the fire was in fact quite cold. Preservation and purity: it was the embodiment of science, truth, and existence that was protecting his right hand. But could truth defend?  
    The young man rose his arm to the desk and computer console and willed the fire to extend. It burned up the table and cracked the glass, destroying the veil between the two forces.  
    From where the mainframe once stood in the wall became a portal filled with a harsh white light. He cringed, shielding himself from the almost prying eyes of the light. The bright whiteness flooded the small chamber of electricity, penetrating Alfred's containment cell for the first time in over a century. It felt as if someone had stripped him away layer at a time right down the bones and closed their arms around those broken bones tightly.  
    But it wasn't just a notion. When Alfred manage to crack his eyes he saw that his own sanctum of knowledge and truth had been burned away. The demention was a pure white space with an endless sky of clock faces and ribbons of darkness, white butterflies spiralling upward from where he once stood inside the blue safebox.  
    His eyes, once clenched shut in refusal to face the fact of his isolation, widened with a youthful sense of curiosity and wonder as the world enveloped him and warm light. The convictions fell away and became nothing more than love and conditioning of the soul.  
    And that source of love and compassion came from none other than the neatly dressed man with an outstretched hand. His smile, a bit tried from his efforts, was weak but warm and open. Peridot gems sparkled in his face from the tears streaming over his face. Those cheeks were reddened with sadness but also a meloncholy sense of relief that comes after a dark storm. It was Arthur, crying with happiness and relief.  
    "Alfred," he said in his smooth accent.  
    Alfred could only blink and let his eyes blur with his tears.  
    "Don't you think there's a flaw to this feigned Destiny?" Another smooth roll of words.  
    But all that could be seen throughout the vast whiteness of clock faces, ocean-dark ribbons, and white butterflies that embodied purity, was their passionate embrace and Alfred leading a dreamt-of kiss. Their lips parted only for a moment before their lips collided again, sparks and wisps of gold light surrounding them.  
    Destiny: Defied, rewritten, corrected, and recreated.  
    Truth: Found, affirmed, and supported.  
    Love: Relived, redeemed, and final.


End file.
